


Lucy Learns the Wasteland

by CptEmie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Slow Burn, a few assorted spoilers, look at these nerds, runaway romance, she's nervous as hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5554658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CptEmie/pseuds/CptEmie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts and drabble for my CC, Lucy Fields: discontented former housewife turned wasteland bad-ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeking Shelter

“Inside, Boss!”

            She could hear him calling from the bottom of the hill, but she didn’t hear any gunshots or growling, so she figured it would be okay to finish picking the mutfruit off this little tree before she went back down to him.

            “Boss!” There was his voice again, more insistent this time.

“Hang on!” She called back, tucking a few more pieces of fruit into her pack until she was satisfied that the tree was well and truly bare.

            She never even heard him come up behind her. All at once he was scooping her up with one arm and tearing back down the hill again, dragging her along with him. In a matter of seconds he was tucking her into the corner of a battered train car, curling himself around her like a human shield.

            “I’m not getting radiation sickness because you wanted a snack,” he grumbled.

            “What the hell, Mac?” She managed to recover some semblance of ladylike posture, shoving MacCready backwards by about a foot and doing her best to look affronted.

            He gave her an annoyed look and pointed to the green tinged sky barely visible outside the grungy window of the train car. “Radiation storm.” He said it as though she was an idiot, and she screwed up her face into a disapproving look.

            “Well then, aren’t you glad that I got us some food while we wait it out?”

            “You’re just lucky I found us a little shelter,” he pointed out, taking one of the mutfruits out of her pack. “If not for me, you’d be glowing.”

            This was the game they played. Juvenile, yes, but it was a game. Back and forth until one of them caved and laughed about whatever silly thing they were competing over. Lucy screwed up her face and decided not to lose this round. “You ought to be kissing my feet for this one,” she pronounced, digging a little further through her things. She produced a full bottle of whiskey and flashed him a smile.

            “Lucy, you minx,” he smirked, allowing himself a short laugh. Fine, she won this time. He unrolled their sleeping bags and set them up next to each other, creating a cozy little corner in the end of the car where they could sleep through the storm. MacCready leaned lazily against the cold metal and held his hand out for the bottle. “What are we drinking to?”

            She was biting back a grin, still stuck on the part where he’d called her by her first name. It was shameful, the way she lit up at little things like that. Shameful, because flirting was the last thing they needed to be doing. They needed to be focused on surviving. Focused on finding Shaun. Not focused on hormones and blushes.

            “To the Commonwealth,” she suggested, trying to bring her mind back to the task at hand.

            “Oof,” he shook his head. “Downer.” He took the bottle and set the cork deftly between his canines, pulling it out with a sharp jerk of his head. A second jerk indicated that she should join him on their rolls. “To the Commonwealth,” he assented, taking a long swig.

            She took the bottle and tipped her chin up, letting the sting of the liquor be the final kick in the pants she needed to keep her head on straight. “Commonwealth,” she mumbled.

            “C’mon,” he shoved over to give her a little more room. “Nothing to do now but wait.”

            She knew he was right. It could be minutes or hours before the storm passed. They might be here all night if it got bad. She scooted backward until her back hit the wall, drawing her knees up close to her chest and tucking her hands under the skirt of her dress. One eye on her pistol, the other on Mac.

            “You got serious,” he observed, taking another swig from the bottle.

            “Sorry,” she shrugged a little. “Nuclear wastelands do that to a girl.”

            “Cheer up,” he tried to coax a smile out of her. “I’m going to have to tell jokes if you don’t cheer up on your own, and you know how bad my jokes are.”

            Lucy buried her face in her knees so he wouldn’t see her smile. “I’d rather get irradiated.”

            Before he knew what he was doing, he slung his right arm around the back of her neck and tugged her into the crook under his shoulder. “Here,” he said, handing her back the bottle that he’d stolen. “Having a little fun won’t kill you.”

            For a moment she just let the bottle swing from her fingers and reveled in the way his bare arm on the back of her neck – felt like it was setting her nerves on fire. “Maccy?” She asked, after a few minutes of silence. His stupid nickname was just silly enough to make her smile.

            “Mm?”

            “Tell me a joke?”


	2. Kiss on the Jaw

            He was quick; she had to give him that.

            As soon as the elevator door shut, he swiveled right, pinning her against the steel wall, throwing her arms up over her head with one hand and arching her back forward with the other arm locked tight around her waist.

            “Maccy…” she let out a little groan as soon as his lips met her neck, eyes fluttering shut.

            “Can’t help it,” he muttered, nipping along her jaw.

            It was indecent, the way he couldn’t keep his hands to himself anymore. It was shameful, the way his tongue felt like fire against her skin. And it was sinful how much she enjoyed it. The little moan that escaped her lips was proof enough of that.

            He knew he only had a matter of a few seconds before the door opened again, so he ducked his head under her chin to lift it up, and sucked a sweet little bruise right over her pulse, then skated back up her neck to leave one more hot, open-mouthed kiss on the line of her jaw before the elevator hit the bottom floor landing. MacCready stood up arrow straight and let her hands drop, the same motion allowing her spine to straighten and her eyes to open.

            When the ‘ding’ of the opening door sounded, he was strolling out into the gutted apartment building’s lobby with a skip in his step and a smirk on his face. It took her longer, admittedly, to compose herself, and she was still smoothing out the rumpled front of her dress when she stumbled out after him.

            “Hurry up, Luce,” he called behind him. “Wouldn’t want to get left behind.”

            That bruise was going to be well and truly showing when they got back to Sanctuary, and Piper was never going to let Lucy hear the end of it.


	3. What's Wrong?

            Lucy Fields knelt on her bedroom floor, staring at the open safe she had built there. There were two things there, two small things that seemed so innocuous that probably no one would ever think to steal them in the first place. The baby rattle was cracked and worn, completely useless now; but it was the very first thing she’d bought when she’d found out she was pregnant with Shaun, and she couldn’t bear to get rid of it. The holotape next to it was the sound that haunted her nightmares: the only way she had to hear Nathaniel’s voice, and the only thing left of Shaun’s giggles. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to that holotape – it was all she had left of them now. Well, besides the wedding rings. Her engagement ring and wedding band sat where they had been for three years (or maybe 213 years), and his wedding band had gone onto her thumb the day she buried him, six months ago.

            She loved Nathaniel, honestly she did. But the alarming frequency at which she had to remind herself of that had started to give her pause over the last month or two. The pain she felt over his death was just as much guilt as loss, but the churning in her stomach at the thought of him was always about Shaun. It was always that he was the father of her child, more than it was that he was her husband. And somehow, the churning slowed around Mac. Her gut knew what her mind couldn’t acknowledge: that he was already a father, and that he could be a father to Shaun as well.

            So the jagged breath she sucked in as she laid all three rings into the safe felt terrifying and relieving all at once. It felt like hours that she stared at the open safe: three small rings of platinum laid out in a row next to two larger chunks of plastic. She might have knelt there all day if not for the knock on the front door.

            “Luce?” MacCready’s voice broke the quiet.

            Lucy scrambled to her feet and padded over to the door to let him in.

            “You okay?” He asked, brushing a kiss across her cheek once they were alone in the house. “You look off.”

            The sight of him was nearly too much, with the safe open down the hall and her hands strangely light from the lack of jewelry. She was still shaky, still reeling from the decision she was in the process of making.

            “Luce?” His voice tinged with even more concern when she didn’t answer.

            She opened her mouth – once, twice, just gaping at him – but couldn’t speak. After another long moment of silence, she held up her left hand. The half inch of skin that had been covered for so many years practically glowed in the dim light of the living room. It was pale compared to the rest of her skin, which was perpetually tanned from time walking around the wasteland. Mac gasped a little, hand clasping over hers to hold it against his chest and pressing little kisses to the tips of her fingers.

            “Maccy, listen…” she took a step into him, resting her right hand over both of his, letting all four of their hands tangle together on his chest. “I—” her lower lip was shaking, she was vibrating out of her skin. “I—” The words came hard and in one solid burst. “I want to try.” She managed to say. “Us. I want to try us.”

            Mac’s heartbeat sped up under their hands. He ducked his head to catch her eyes and held on to them for dear life – blue locked on to amber hazel. “You sure, baby?” She nodded – again and again and again – and let him wipe the tears out of her eyes with both hands. He ran his thumbs under her eyelashes over and over while they both cried a little. It wasn’t as if she’d even said she loved him, even though he was bursting at the seams with how maddeningly in love with her he knew he was.

            Lucy swallowed and her voice evened out, and she still only said three words: “Yes. I’m sure.”

            A giggle erupted from the bottom of MacCready’s throat. It started out small before bubbling over, turning into almost a shout. The hands already on her cheeks drew her tight against him and nipped at her bottom lip, coaxing her into a deep, satisfying kiss. So deep that her back arched into him instinctively and his hands found the peaks of her hips, causing the pair of them to stutter backward.

            It happened in less than a breath: her knees caught the back of the couch and sent them tumbling backwards, laughing and squealing when they hit the cushions below. Lucy squealed out a loud laugh and Mac ‘oof’ed lightly against her, hauling himself up to keep his weight from crushing her, but he never stopped kissing her – lips, jaw, neck, shoulder – any bit of skin he could easily nudge her shirt off of, pulling little groans out of her as he went. “Thank. Freaking. God.”


	4. Waking Up Together

            Lucy let out a strained groan when the morning sun broke through her closed eyelids. She stretched out on the creaky mattress with a long yawn. She didn’t think anything of it until the warm mass next to her rolled over, hat askew and lopsided grin gracing his stubbled face. A now-familiar pit in the bottom of her stomach tightened when Mac shifted himself up onto his elbow to be able to look at her properly in the sunlight.

            “Hey,” he murmured, a little deeper and throatier than he meant to.

            “Hey,” she whispered in return, lying out on her back.

            They’d fallen asleep talking last night – shoulder to shoulder until their hands met – trying not to smile too much at each other when their fingers tangled together. Now he was very comfortably leaning over her, maybe a little too close except that it was warm and sunny and her skin was singing where his elbow touched her shoulder. With jackets and armour and belts gone they were lying in bed together – unabashedly _together_ – in undershirts and trousers. And he was grinning down at her like the cat that got the cream, letting his free hand snake around her side to pull her closer to his side.

            She’d known what was coming from the moment he’d rolled over to look at her, but his hand at her side made her back arch ever so slightly and when he pulled her to him, her mouth went crashing in to his hungrily.

            He was all lips and teeth and tongue and she was breathless to keep up, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down on top of her so he was practically crushing her under his weight. But the closeness was what she craved – the comfort of a body next to her, a heartbeat meeting the racing pulse of her own.

            When they ran out of air Mac pulled back, panting and red-faced, to meet her eyes. “I…” he blushed redder than he already was. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” His eyes were all but sparkling, bright blue catching the light and shining down at her.

“Me too,” she confessed, blood still pulsing loudly in her ears.

            He dipped his head again, the second kiss nothing more than a gentle brush against her lips that made her smile against his him. He left a trail of light kisses down her jaw and stopped for one long, open mouthed kiss on the side of her neck. His forehead came to rest on the pillow next to her head and his breath feathered over her now damp skin, making her eyelids flutter shut for just an extra second or two.

            “Luce?”

            “Mm?”

            Mac raised his head again to press their foreheads together, eyes half-open to look into her own. “I don’t want you to say anything until I get this all out, okay?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “You might be the best person I’ve ever known. You spend all your time helping people and never giving a da—darn about yourself. You’re beautiful, and amazing, and I fuc—” he sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ve been going crazy for months. Probably since the day you walked into the Rail. I can’t stop thinking about you, or fantasizing, or anything. You’re the first thing I think of in the morning and my last thought at night.”

            “Maccy—”

            “Don’t…feel like you have to respond, ya know? Actually, don’t at all. Take your time. I know you’re still dealing with everything, so just think about what I said, okay? I’m crazy about you.”

            Lucy’s chest felt like it was swelling beyond capacity. She was going to burst if it inflated any further, but the feeling just kept going, pushing her out of her own body until she was watching him watching her – seeing the tension in his jaw that held happiness and a touch of worry, seeing her own face smiling at him in disbelief. She came back to herself in enough time to be there when he kissed her again, and aware of herself enough to roll them over so his back was flat on the mattress and she was half over him, one hand resting on his chest to hold her up.

            If being this happy was going to fill her up and tear her open, it would be a wonderful way to go.


	5. A Promise

            There were never days with nothing to do, but sometimes there were days where she could make her own schedule. And on those days she always slept as late as she could. It was more of a luxury now than it ever had been, and she took every chance she got – especially now that she was sharing a bed again. She had boarded up the broken windows in her bedroom months ago. Privacy was essential for her: sometimes she needed it as much as food or bullets. The ability to disappear from view was something she never took for granted.

            Most people knew to leave her alone because they were warned about it. Early on, Preston was the one to ward people away. He would just say that she was busy and then give them the death stare that added: “And if you disturb her, I will break you.” These days the folks in Sanctuary just knew. If Lucy went into her old house, she wanted to be alone, no questions asked. It wasn’t until about a month ago that anybody ever followed her inside – and when that person was RJ MacCready, heads started turning.

            Whatever Lucy and Preston had had going on had fizzled out as quickly as it started. In no more than six weeks they went from quick glances to longing gazes to slow dances and stolen kisses to amiable friends. No one talked about it and no one asked questions. They were and then they weren’t. Whatever she and MacCready had, it started quiet and was kept that way. Only one of their friends even knew about it, and Piper could keep a secret with the best of them.

            It was Deacon who spotted MacCready following her through the door. “Mac!” He hissed, waving a flat hand emphatically across his throat to signal for the younger man to cease and desist. MacCready just shook his head and smiled, turning the corner through the doorway and shutting the broken door behind him.

            Everyone knew that Lucy had been fixing up her old house little by little. She’d been doing it since Christmas, when the group of them had gifted her a stock of materials to build with. Until then, everything had been left exactly the way it was after the bomb fell, right down to Codsworth’s box still sitting in the laundry room. She never took a stitch of fabric or a plank of wood for herself, and they all knew that she slept every night on an old mattress and a broken frame. So they saved up and saved up, and gave her enough to build a few new pieces of furniture and fix up the doorways. A month or so later, some of the windows were boarded up for privacy. The house was her own private sanctuary. Until MacCready.

            Once Deacon had processed what he’d seen, he’d gone straight to the house on the cul de sac that he, Piper, and Preston had moved into. “Piper. Your room. Now.” He’d insisted, jerking his head towards the hallway.

            “Someone’s bossy today,” she teased, following after him. “Better be prepared to stay in charge once the door closes.”

            Deacon rolled his eyes, putting his back to the closed door and giving her a quick peck on the forehead. “You’ve been keeping secrets, love,” he murmured, quiet enough that the others couldn’t hear him through the broken walls.

            “Have I?” She quirked a coy smile at him.

            “Mac just went into Charmer’s house.”

            Piper swallowed, keeping her poker face in place. “Did he now?”

            “Piper, you knew. I know you knew. She tells you everything.”

            She shrugged a little, tossing her hands up. “Look, it’s none of my business who she shacks up with. She wanted to talk about it, but she wanted to keep it quiet, so I promised to keep my mouth shut.”

            “Well, it’s not going to be quiet for much longer.” His whispers were turning into hisses.

            “What does it matter to you, anyway?” Piper crossed her arms across her chest.

            Deacon pursed his lips together and glanced down at his toes. He hadn’t been a part of the crew very long, but he’d found his place in Sanctuary and he’d made friends quickly enough. “What’s it gonna do to Preston when he finds out?” They could not talk about it all they wanted, but every once in a while – around a campfire after dark or while they were out in their makeshift farm behind the main cluster of houses – he saw the look on Preston’s face when he looked at Lucy. He still had feelings for her. Deep ones. Deep enough that this was going to hurt him.

            “You’d better just come out here if you’re going to talk about me.” Preston’s voice rang loud and clear from the living room.

            Deacon rubbed his palms over his face before opening the door and letting Piper lead the way back down the hall. “Look…I’m sorry man…I guess I’m not great with whispers. Got a loud voice, ya know?”

            Preston just shook his head. “The walls in these old houses aren’t exactly solid anymore.” He motioned to the chair next to him, offering it to the other man. “So what about me and the General?”

            “I didn’t mean to—” Deacon tried to backpedal as fast as he could.

            “It’s simple,” Preston leaned his chin on his fists, elbows solidly pressed onto the table. “I wanted something she wasn’t ready to give. She was barely out of the Vault when I met her – just a few days, I think. Frozen for hundreds of years, you know that. Her husband shot, her kid gone. You know all that.” The Minuteman shrugged a little. “I don’t know if I really fell in love with her, or I was just so grateful that I thought I was. She saved my life, back in Concord. But I was talking about feelings while she was still wearing both wedding rings. So I backed off, and she moved on.”

            “Both wedding rings?” It was an odd thing to focus on, Deacon thought to himself, but the detail stuck out.

            “She used to wear Nathaniel’s ring on her thumb,” Piper chipped in.

            “That’s all there is.” Preston’s chin was pressed into his fists. “If she’s moved on, good for her.”

            Piper laid a hand gently on Preston’s arm and offered him a small smile. All she said was, “Mac.”

            “Lucky guy.” Preston nodded. That was all there was to say about it.

            MacCready closed the door carefully behind him and dropped his duster on the coat rack next to it. Lucy was laying her armour out piece by piece on the kitchen counter, dropping her cap next to the last leg piece by the place where her old stove used to be. “Well,” he heaved a sigh. “I let Deacon see me.”

            She didn’t turn around at first, just fiddled with the knobs on her Pip-Boy for a second. “That’s done, then,” she said finally.

            “We couldn’t have just let Piper leak it?” He hung his hat with his duster and starting shrugging out of his belts.

            “Faster this way,” she told him, coming over to sit down on the ratty couch. “Rumour spreads easier if it’s erratic, not if it’s careful.”

            “We couldn’t have just told them all? Or kissed in front of them, or something?”

            “I don’t know,” she admitted, leaning her head back to watch him arrange his belts carefully in one of the built-in sets of shelves. “I just figured it would be easier if we didn’t have a hand in it. Just let them spread it amongst themselves so that we don’t have to go through some huge interview like we’re celebrities or something.”

            MacCready lent her a lopsided smile and plopped down next to her on the couch, snaking one arm around her shoulders and drawing her in close. His other hand carded through her hair, carefully pulling her daily up-do out of its pins and curls to let it fall down across his arm. “We’re going to have to answer questions either way,” he reminded her.

            “Can we not talk about it for now?” She rested her cheeks against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the worn flannel shirt he was wearing.

            “Sure,” he kept his fingers moving, massaging her scalp as he went. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

            “I was thinking,” she snuggled into him a little closer. “About building up the other bedroom.”

            “Yeah,” he nodded. “We already talked about fixing up Shaun’s room.”

            “No, I mean, adding a second bed.” She tipped her chin up and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “So that Duncan will have a place to sleep.”

            MacCready’s hands came to a dead stop. “What?”

            She quickly put her head back down, pulling out of his grip ever so slightly. That was not the reaction she had been expecting. Mac’s eyes were darting around her face, cloudy and wide open. “I’ve been saving some caps,” she told him, focusing her own eyes on her hands in her lap. “To buy him passage on a caravan.”

            “What?” The word stuck in his throat.

            Lucy looked nearly on the verge of tears. “I thought you’d be glad.”

            All at once, his arms flew around her and he was drawing her up into his lap, as close as he could possibly hold her. “Luce, I don’t know what to say,” the words were hoarse, cracking against her hair where his lips were flush to the top of her head. “Of course I’m glad. I just…I guess I never…do you think we’ll ever be able to afford it?”

            There was hope in his voice. Hope that filled his chest and sped up his heartbeat against her ear.

            “I asked Daisy how much it would cost. It’s a lot, but I think we might be able to do it if we’re extra stingy for a few months.” She bit her lip. “Several months.”

            Mac took her face firmly in both of his hands and kissed the ever-living breath out of her. “Are you asking me to move in, Fields?”

            She laughed – breathy and a little gleeful. “Of course I am, you idiot. Half your stuff is here anyway.”

            He tsked at her playfully, turning her towards him until her knees were situated on either side of his hips, allowing her to sit back on his knees and look down at him. “Living in sin? Is that the phrase you use?” It was some pre-war thing she had explained to him once – about the old taboo of a couple living together without being married.

            “I don’t even know how marriage works anymore,” she admitted quietly, placing a light kiss on his forehead. “I mean, I know it happens. Of course it still happens. But when I got married it was all about legal paperwork and big churches and a lot of ways of life that don’t apply anymore.” Another little kiss, this one to his right temple. “Besides, I’ve only just asked you to move in. It would look awfully desperate to ask you to marry me in the same conversation.”

            Something inside him cracked wide open. Spread through him like wildfire and set every inch of him on fire. It was the same feeling he’d gotten the first time she’d said she loved him. She was trying to play it off, trying to make it sound flippant – like a passing joke that didn’t really mean anything. What she’d said, in not so many words, was that she wanted to be a family. With him. With him and Duncan and Shaun. She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to rebuild their lives as _their_ lives.

            “Hey,” he murmured, sliding his hands up her legs until they were holding her hips. “I love you, you know that?”

            The fire that had lit inside him jumped right over to her, and she sank down onto his lips all in a heartbeat. “I love you, too.”


End file.
